


Justifiable Homicide

by Fidelius



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, M/M, Violence Against Jukebox, hand holding, internalized ableism, liberal use of Tony's money
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-09
Updated: 2018-11-09
Packaged: 2019-08-21 02:26:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16567826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fidelius/pseuds/Fidelius
Summary: Bucky shot the jukebox for playing a sad song.





	Justifiable Homicide

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is based on the song Bubba Shot The Jukebox. It's been a bunny for a few years so...yeah. The title is from that song. 
> 
> Bubba Shot The Jukebox - Marc Chesnutt  
> Ruby Don't Take Your Love To Town - Kenny Rogers

Objectively, Clint knew that it wasn’t Steve’s fault that he was standing outside a bar in a foot of snow at one in the morning in Heuvelton, NY listening to Phil try to talk down the local Sheriff, but the parts of his body that were freezing more with every second were happy to blame Steve.

“...completely, Sheriff Yoste. James is a veteran. Loud, sudden noises can sometimes trig-.”

“PTSD, huh? Did some time in the service myself. You need to take better care of yourself, son.”

Clint hoped, from the bottom of his heart, that Bucky didn’t take issue with the Sheriff’s tone. Everyone but the Sheriff knew that Bucky was old enough to be the guy's Grandfather.

“I...yes, sir.” Bucky nodded, his eyes focused squarely on the Sheriff’s boots.

Sheriff Yoste watched Bucky’s face as if looking for something. He must have found what he was looking for because after a moment he nodded and turned his attention to Fury and Coulson.

“This is my cousin Margie’s place. I’ll see what I can do ‘bout all this.” Yoste turned his attention back to Bucky, “You stay right there, y’hear?”

As soon Yoste was inside, Fury turned his attention to Clint, Natasha, and Bucky.

“What the hell were you thinking?”

“I…” Bucky seemed at a loss for words as he looked at Fury, his face grim. “I don’t know.”

“James h-.”

“No.” Fury cut Natasha off, “I’ll deal with you two and your stupid ass decision to get Barnes _drunk_ in a minute.”

“M’not drunk.”

“Come again?” Phil requested calmly...too calmly for Clint’s liking.

Clint liked Bucky a whole lot but he really wished the guy would have kept his mouth shut. Drunk nonsense was semi-forgivable. Sober nonsense? He was about to fuck them all.

“Said I’m not drunk. Can’t get drunk.”

“Sargent B-.”

“Bucky.”

“Bucky,” Phil said, his tone softer than Clint had ever heard it “If you aren’t drunk, why did you shoot a jukebox?”

Bucky shrugged, but Clint saw the way he clenched his left hand. His _metal_ hand.

Everything fell into place as he watched the reflection of the bar’s twinkle lights dance along Bucky’s arm.

“Ruby.”

“Barton, not n-.”

“Let him talk.” Natasha interrupted, her eyes daring Fury and Phil to reprimand her again.

“Someone played _Ruby, Don’t Take Your Love To Town_. ”

Phil closed his eyes and sighed. He had every album Kenny Rogers had ever recorded so he knew the song. Clint knew he understood what had happened.

“Care to share with the rest of the class why that song is a pass for a sober man to shoot a jukebox in a bar full of people?”

“It’s about a vet who lost his legs in Vietnam. His wife cheats on him and doesn’t hide it.” Sheriff Yoste supplied as he stepped out of the bar. “Margie mentioned that song was playin’ too.”

Sheriff Yoste turned his attention to Bucky and asked, softly, “You got a sweetheart, son?”

Bucky shrugged again, his face shuttered.

Everyone had assumed he had a sweetheart, the way Steve acted with him. It had been assumed that Steve and Bucky were _together_. The two of them shared a room for fuck’s sake. It was common knowledge amongst the team, Steve and Bucky were dating. Maybe even married.

Except apparently it wasn’t as commonly understood as they’d thought because Steve had gone on a date with someone decidedly not Bucky that night. Someone he’d met on tinder of all places. And the guy looked a _lot_ like Bucky...only he still had both of the arms he’d been born with and Bucky...didn’t. Something everyone had noticed.

Soon as they’d left, Bucky had announced that he wanted to go out too. So Clint and Natasha had agreed to take him out. The bar in Heuvelton was one Clint had visited a few years back after a mission. It had decent people, good food, and reasonably priced beer. Great as all that had been, it’s best feature had been a distinct lack of Steve.

 _Yeah_ , Clint thought to himself, _he’s got a fuckin’ sweetheart and the guy’s an idiot._

“Fuckin’ Rogers,” Clint mumbled.

“Steve?”

“Kenny?”

Bucky and Phil asked at the same time.

“I don’t give a fuck if he means Fred Rogers. Someone better tell me what the hell a song has to do with Barnes shooting the damn jukebox!”

Clint sighed, ready to lay it all out on the snow for Fury but Bucky beat him to it.

“Reminded me of Steve. Though we were...I don’t know, somethin’. But then he went out with _Marc_ tonight and…”

Bucky kicked the snow in from of him, “He ain’t all scarred up like me. Steve can go out with him and people won’t stare.”

The six of them stood there in the cold as Bucky’s words hung in the air. Clint and Natasha had discussed their mutual assumption that that was the issue on the Quinjet while waiting for Bucky to meet them. Bucky was sad because he didn’t think he was good enough for Steve and Steve’s date with Marc had told him he was right.

“I don’t mean to tell you how to live your life, son, but a man like that? A man who’d leave you because you were hurt while serving your country, that’s not a good man. You deserve better.”

The Sheriff seemed to realize he’d fucked up when Bucky’s posture changed. Quick as light, Phil, Natasha, Clint, and Fury put their bodies between Bucky and Sheriff Yoste.

“Don’t be stupid, Barnes.” Fury said, his gloved hand resting on the gun at his hip.

“This situation is small, Sergeant Barnes. We can fix it. But if you do what you’re thinking about right now, you won’t be able to take it back.”

“Listen to Phil, James.” Natasha pleaded, “He’s not a jukebox. You won’t be able to fix this.”

Clint didn’t say anything. Fury, Phil, and Natasha had covered everything and nothing he said would make any difference that their words hadn’t. Yoste kept his mouth shut too. He seemed to realize that he’d fucked up. Maybe it was the way Bucky had switched from ashamed vet to active weapon in the blink of an eye. Maybe it was the way his friends had all moved to put themselves between Yoste and Bucky. Whatever it was, the guy seemed to grasp that he was in danger.

Long minutes ticked by and none of them moved. Inside the bar, they could hear people cleaning up the mess from the shattered jukebox and overturned tables and chairs that people had left in their haste to get the hell away from the crazy guy shooting at inanimate objects.

Finally, just as a fresh wave of snow started to fall, Bucky unclenched his hands and relaxed his body.

“Don’t get much better than Steve, Sheriff. He’s a good man. Not his fault I never…”

Bucky let his words fade into nothing as he lifted his face to the sky. Clint knew what he was doing, he’d done it himself. The snow was cold and pure, and as it melted on Bucky’s skin it would maybe - just maybe - wash away some of the pain and sadness Bucky was feeling.

While Bucky silently begged the snow to cleanse him and Natasha, Phil, and Clint watched Bucky, Fury turned his attention to Yoste.

“What did your cousin say?”

Yoste put his hands in his jacket pocket and sighed, “She’s willin’ to call it even if Sergeant Barnes here covers the damages to the jukebox, furniture, and unpaid bills of all the folks he ran off when he fired the gun.

“Normally reckless discharge of a fi-.”

“Reckless my ass!” Clint called over his shoulder.

“I hit exactly where I was aiming.” Bucky agreed.

Yoste kept right on talking as if he hadn’t heard them. “Reckless discharge of a firearm tends to land a man in lockup for a few days. If Sergeant Barnes agrees to never, under any circumstances, bring a gun back into Heuvelton, I’ll let him go with a fine.”

Bucky, knowing a good deal when he heard one, nodded in agreement. “Seems fair. Will she take credit or do I need to buy a new jukebox and have it shipped?”

Clint knew that he was thinking of the debit card that Tony had given him. They all had one. It was one of the perks of being teammates and pals with one of the richest people on the planet.

It didn’t take long to sort out payment for the damages and fine. With a to-go package of all the food that’d been ordered and hadn’t left the kitchen, the five of them were in the quinjet and headed back to the city less than twenty minutes later.

 

Steve was waiting for them when they landed. The snow that had been falling in Heuvelton had missed the city completely, but it was cold and Clint wasn’t willing to stick around in the cold any longer than he had to. Instead of lingering on the roof of Stark Tower, Clint walked up to Steve and handed him a box of leftover potato skins.

“Fix this.”

 

Bucky watched Clint hand a box of food to Steve before following Natasha, and Phil inside. He’d known they were texting Steve on the way home. Only an idiot would have expected them not to. Knowing that Steve would be there didn’t make it any easier to see him.

“Hiya, Stevie.” Bucky said with more levity than he felt, “Hope we didn’t interrupt your date.” 

“It’s four in the morning.” Steve snorted. “I left at seven. What the hell kind of dates do you think I go on, Buck?”

“The kind that feature men who aren’t me.” Bucky snapped as he drew even with Steve and snatched the box of potato skins away from him.

Instead of waiting for Steve to respond, Bucky kept right on walking towards the door to the communal floor of the tower.

“Hold on there, pal.” Steve said as he jogged up behind Bucky, “You don’t get to be mad at me when you never said anything.”

Bucky stopped walking but didn’t look at Steve.

“What was I supposed to say, huh? ‘Please love me even though I’m broken?’ Nobody wants to hold a metal hand in the middle of winter, Steve.”

“Fuck you, Buck.” Steve slipped his hand down Bucky’s wrist and twined their fingers together. “I ain’t nobody.”


End file.
